From the Vaults 2: Fan’s Eye View

A good few years ago The Independent ran a weekly column written by fans about their own club, giving a little insight into an aspect of being a supporter. Anyway, I wrote the piece below (over ten years ago!) but never sent it in. I’m not sure how I feel about the sentiments now (and I may come back to this I guess), but here it is, as written then, for what it’s worth…

Fan’s Eye View: Kilmarnock

I have found that supporting one of Scottish football’s so-called lesser teams has always had it’s advantages. Aside from the fact that I am mercifully detached from the bigoted tub-thumping that shrouds the Old Firm, there are a good many perks.

Getting to see my team at away matches is never much of a problem, season-tickets are still priced within reason, and I enjoy a breed of small-community spirit that has helped me to find optimism in a 6-2 Coca-Cola Cup defeat at Stirling Albion.

The main benefit, though, as I see it, is that onerous expectation is replaced by hope. Not for me the dreadful fear that Rangers may get ten-in-a-row. Not for me the terrible worry that Celtic may stop them. I can just take my place in the stand and hope that Killie play well. Hope that we win. Hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll have something to celebrate.

Or that’s how it was until 24 May 1997, when, for the first time since 1929, Kilmarnock won the Scottish Cup. Now things have changed.

I can’t actually clearly remember my first time watching Killie. It was at Rugby Park in the seventies – a Wednesday night Cup tie against either Hearts or Dundee Utd. We got beat, I do remember that. So I suppose from the very start I didn’t expect too much from them. At that time Killie were yo-yoing between the top two divisions, a singular Scottish League Championship in season 1964/65 a distant memory and before my time.

My Dad always worked Saturdays so I was restricted to midweek matches and that seemed to suffice at the time. Gradually over the years my attendance record improved and eventually I found myself going to every game – home & away – just in time to witness Killie sink to the lowest ebb in their history.

The reality of relegation to the Second Division was played out on a bitterly cold Tuesday night in Dumfries when we were beaten 3-2 by Queen of the South. My football nadir had been reached. From then on I knew that things, as they say, could only get better. [Ed - reading this now it suggests we were relegated on that Tuesday; that's not what I meant. It was this particular game that summed up the depression of the time for me.]

And that’s the whole point of following a team like Kilmarnock isn’t it? You see the bad times as a means of penance. You are doing your time to pay for the small crumbs of success which come your way: a glorious Quarter-final Cup defeat, a nail-biting promotion to the Premier League; a spirited fight against the drop; another Ayrshire Cup. But you don’t dare dream that one day your team may actually win something of any significance. Do you?

Well, as I said, last year we did. Incredulous as it may sound, Kilmarnock are the reigning Tennants Scottish Cup holders.

So this season we headed undaunted into the bright lights of the Cup-Winners’ Cup. Suddenly, there were new dreams: a trip to the Nou Camp or a visit to Rugby Park by a swaggering Chelsea.

I was reminded, however, that Barcelona had washed their hands of the competition, having found a golden ticket to the Money Factory, the Champions’ League, in a chocolate bar. There was still a chance of Gianfranco Zola attempting to outwit Ray Montgomerie, though. (The fact that you probably don’t know who Ray Montgomerie is tends to underline the surreality of this possibility).

As it turned out we drew Irish part-timers Shelbourne whom we finally overcame 3-2 on aggregate. The glamour started and finished in our pairing with Nice of the French Second Division.

In France we were gubbed 3-1, which was followed by a 1-1 draw at home. The photos are pasted in a scrapbook under the headline “So near, yet so far…”. Cue end of  romance.

All of this, as you have gathered, has left me in a bit of a flap. You see, last May I experienced the most exciting, fulfilling, emotional day of my footballing life. I saw something which I had dreamed about, but did not really expect ever to see.

That day, the long trips to Glebe Park and Boghead seemed worthwhile, as if they meant something. I felt that my devotion, persistence and endurance had in some small way played its part in our Cup victory.

But since that day watching Killie hasn’t quite been the same. Sure, I still go to every game. I still care deeply about the club and am proud to be a supporter. Despite this though, something is missing. The hope is gone. I’ve seen us win the Cup. I’ve seen the best Killie victory I’m ever likely to see. No game will ever compare.

Unless we win the league, that is.